


A New Dawn is Waking

by tansybells



Series: Flayn Week 2020 [8]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: AU Where Flayn Ends Up Like Indech and Macuil, Also I Know Sothis Is In Byleth's Head, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dragon!Flayn, But She Can Turn Back Because. I Want Her To., Father-Daughter Relationship, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Spoilers, Flayn Week (Fire Emblem), Ft. Actually Feral Flayn, Gen, I Wanted Her Anyway, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Spoilers for Flayn and Seteth, as a treat, split POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25342513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tansybells/pseuds/tansybells
Summary: Byleth doesn't understand why Seteth is so desperate to retrieve the Caduceus Staff from the Rhodos Coast once he learns of its existence. What's more, she doesn't get why he won't let anyone harm the dragon that protects it. Does he want the staff or not?Day Eight: Free Write
Relationships: Flayn & Seteth (Fire Emblem), Flayn & Sothis (Fire Emblem), My Unit | Byleth & Seteth
Series: Flayn Week 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824445
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	A New Dawn is Waking

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by Adriana Figueroa's ["Wanderer's Lullaby."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=70VlAyEUXYM)

Byleth tumbled back as a spray of flame threatened to cook her alive, her boots skidding on the sand beneath her feet. The dragon that they fought was young and spry, mobile despite being roughly the size of a house, and—maybe more importantly—seemed to have it out for her and her small army.

She didn’t get why Seteth had been so insistent upon coming here and coming now. He’d proposed to her and Rhea that they take this trip in an attempt to retrieve one of the Hero’s Relics, the Caduceus Staff, but honestly? Byleth didn’t care anymore by that point. They had staves that worked perfectly well back at the monastery! They didn’t need  _ this  _ one!

But he had insisted, and so there they were, fighting on the beach for their lives, all for the sake of a stupid staff.

He stood by her now, propped her up from where she’d landed after avoiding the dragon’s fire.

“I am sorry, Professor,” Seteth said, wiping his furrowed brow of sweat and blood, “but I have led you here with a falsehood.”

“What do you mean?” Byleth asked, but she was too focused on the raging beast before them to allow him too much of her attention. She adjusted her grip on the Sword of the Creator. “Seteth, what’s wrong?”

Without replying to Byleth’s question, Seteth looked out to their comrades on the field. So Byleth sternly repeated, “Seteth. What’s wrong?”

“Cease fighting!” Seteth shouted. His voice rolled out across the battlefield like an endless wave. Everyone, friends and foe alike, froze in place as his booming words hit their ears. And, perhaps most noticeably, the giant dragon that they were in the midst of battle with came to a halt.

Its arrowlike head swiveled upon its serpentine neck as it turned to face in Seteth’s direction. An involuntary shudder captured Byleth in its grasp as sea-foam green eyes narrowed, and a low, dangerous rumble emanated from its chest. Several soldiers readied their weapons in response to the threat, but Seteth threw a hand out authoritatively. “Lower your weapons!” he commanded, the brief crack in his voice only serving to emphasize the desperation in his words. Byleth lifted her brows in surprise; she had never heard the archbishop’s right-hand man sound so impassioned. About  _ anything.  _ “Do  _ not  _ harm her!”

“Her?” Byleth muttered in a voice so low that only Seteth himself could hear her insubordination. She was supposed to be a ‘good example,’ after all, and some of her students were still close enough to hear her concerns. “Seteth, you’re not making any goddamn sense.”

Seteth turned to look at her, and Byleth was shocked by the pure distress in his eyes. But to her surprise, her horror, it was a look that she recognized. She’d seen it on Jeralt’s face time and time again—most noticeably when she herself had done something stupid, reckless, or exceptionally dangerous. It was the look of a concerned father.

“She’s my daughter.”

Byleth did not snort, as she may have once when faced with such an absurd statement from one of her mercenary allies. Instead, she watched Seteth steadily. “That still doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “How is a dragon your daughter?”

Seteth shook his head, his laughter that of a man who had seen far too much of the world for his taste. “You are truly oblivious, are you not?” he asked, but he didn’t give Byleth a chance to respond. She rolled her eyes. Rhetorical questions never seemed to work in her favor. 

He continued. “The truth is… we are not human, though we may appear to be. There was a time in which I could also assume such a draconic form, but I seem to have been confined to this one for some several hundred years now.”

“And she…?” Byleth led him on. There wasn’t time for his reminiscence.

“She seems to have encountered the opposite fate.”

Byleth returned her attention to the dragon, which had returned to its rampage. Sweeping its titanic, finned tail across the ground, it— _ she, _ if Seteth was telling the truth—knocked over several of Byleth’s soldiers where they stood. Byleth’s heart, despite the stillness that had forever characterized it, clenched in sympathy. She knew not of Seteth’s daughter, nor that he had ever had one. And, damn it all, she had no clue what to think about his claim to be inhuman. But she did know one thing: Seteth, for all his flaws, hated telling anyone about his personal life. And if he’d decided to tell her about his daughter, then she had the feeling he trusted her enough to save his daughter.

“Alright.” Byleth cracked her neck and took a step forward with a grand flourish of the Sword of the Creator. The weapon pulsed in her hands, reacting to something in the air around them in a way she hadn’t experienced before. “Let’s bring your kid home.”

**+++**

It took little effort to reach the dragon’s feet. It did, however, take all of Byleth’s strength to prevent harm from coming to the dragon by way of the beast’s own actions. How was she supposed to ‘save’ a dragon when said dragon insisted upon nearly impaling itself on her sword every few seconds? Seteth fought beside her, casting spell after spell until his reserves ran dry. He did not bring his lance with him, though if he had, Byleth did not think he would have had the heart to use it.

But, the moment soon came where Byleth was given the opportunity to lunge forward and drive the Sword of the Creator deep into the dragon’s chest. The dragon screamed in pain; Byleth thought her eardrums would burst.

Seteth shouted something that Byleth could not understand, and as Byleth drew her sword from between the dragon’s scales, the dragon toppled over. Its eyes slowly came to a close; it heaved one last, shuddering breath.

And then, Byleth blinked. When she opened her eyes once more, there was no longer a great, house-sized dragon lying on the ground before them. Instead, there was a young girl who could be no older than some of her own students. Green curls splayed out on the sand around her, and she wore nothing but a simple linen dress.

Seteth shouted something more and rushed forward to gather her up in his arms.

The girl did not move.

**+++**

The dragon found herself in a world unknown. It was dark and, although she could not place exactly what it smelled of, she knew without doubt that it smelled  _ old.  _ It smelled old, and not of her home, and not of anywhere that she should be. Instinct screamed that she should make her escape as quickly as she could.

She beat her wings, tried to lift off into the air, but she found that some magical force had left her unable to fly. She craned her neck to snap her powerful jaws and blow flame at her unknown assailant, but she could not even move. She opened her mouth and reared back her head to let loose an earth-shattering roar, but all that came out was a pathetic mewl.

It was not in her to merely curl up and accept her fate, no. She had not survived the past millennium by merely accepting her fate. But much to her chagrin, she found that there was nothing else that she  _ could  _ do. So, tense as she was, she allowed herself to curl up on the cold stone floor.

“My, what a feisty little one we are.” A voice, a child’s voice, made itself known. The dragon froze in place. She looked around until her gaze alighted upon the only source of light in the strange room. Coincidentally, the voice seemed to have also come from there as well.

A girl arose from her seat upon a stone throne. The dragon’s eyes narrowed as the girl, green-haired and bedecked in ornamental garb, began walking down towards where she lay. “I had not expected that you of all people would try to bite my head off when I brought you here,” she said. “You were such a sweet little thing when last I saw you, too.”

The dragon, finding herself intimidated by the girl’s calm, self-sure demeanor, began to struggle to her feet.

“I would not be so hasty,” the girl warned in a surprisingly maternal tone, her hand held out as though she could halt the dragon’s progress. The dragon curled a lip in a terrifying snarl. “You have been awake for only a short while, and I do not think—”

Too late, the dragon realized that she no longer had four legs on which to stand. Gone were her scales, her shield and protection, her razor-sharp claws with which she could rend any foe in twain. All she had were two weak, pink, fleshy legs on which to stand, and she could not even do that, for her knees wobbled beneath her and she fell to the ground.

Her head hit the ground with a  _ crack,  _ and the dragon could only watch as the girl’s bare feet came to a halt before her eyes. The girl crouched then, and coolly met the dragon’s eyes.

“—you have the strength to stand.”

And as the dragon’s gaze began to fade to black, the girl shook her head. “We shall try again a little while later,” she informed the dragon. “Maybe you need a little more rest before we bring you back home.”

“Home?” the dragon managed to whisper in the moment before her consciousness faded.

“Yes, home. Your father awaits, child.”

**+++**

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. She seemed to be in the same room as before, but this time, she was not submerged in darkness. The space around her was illuminated in a soft green and yellow glow. Perhaps it may have been a harsh and unfamiliar light to anyone else, but she found that it felt like home.

The more she acclimated to where she had woken up, the more she noticed what was going on around her. She was no longer on the floor. Instead, her head was propped up on someone’s lap. Someone stroked her hair, their fingers running around the point of her ear repeatedly as they sang.

_ “In time’s flow...see the glow of flames ever burning bright...”  _

She soon recognized the voice to be that of the girl who had confronted her before she hit her head upon the ground. Gone was the harshness with which she had been criticized, for it had been replaced solely by a melodic comfort. 

_ “On the swift river’s drift, broken memories alight...” _

“I know that song…” she murmured. Her tongue felt heavy and unwelcome in her mouth. “I have heard it before.”

The girl stopped singing. But, to her relief, she did not stop moving her fingers through her hair. “Of course you have. I sang it to your father, who sang it to you.”

“You speak as though you know me.”

“There is no doubt that I do!” The girl sounded offended, scandalized. “Cethleann, I was there for your birth. Of course, I did not look as infantile as I do now. Perhaps that is why you are unable to recognize me, despite the compelling way in which our souls sing to each other.”

“Cethleann.” She tried out the name, and found that she liked it. “Is that my name?”

“Oh, child. Has your memory so far deteriorated during your time as a dragon?” The girl clucked her tongue. “Yes, Cethleann is your name. Your parents chose it for you, and they filled it for you with all of the hope and love in the world.”

“Oh. I see.” Cethleann tried it out for herself. Once again, she liked it—she decided to keep it. There was, however, something that continued to confuse her. “I am not a dragon? I have always been a dragon.”

“You have always been able to change back and forth,” the girl clarified. “You are a child of dragons. However, after time, you forgot how to change back. And the longer you remained a dragon, the more you forgot your true nature.”

“And now I am…”

“And now you appear as human as you ever shall.” The girl leaned forward and, brushing Cethleann’s bangs from her forehead, gently kissed her forehead. “Care for yourself, little one. You are my precious granddaughter, but I have no desire to see you here again for a thousand years more.”

“Will I ever fly again?” Cethleann’s voice broke. She blinked her eyes several times, but found that within a few moments, her vision began to fade once more. “I do not think I could spend my whole life without flying again.”

“Only time will tell.” The girl chuckled. “Now go, child. I have kept you here long enough, and your father is desperately waiting for you.”

Cethleann’s brows furrowed. “I have a father?”

The girl groaned. The sarcasm she had so long suppressed returned to her voice as she said, “Do not be stupid. You once had a mother; you have a father yet. Now go!”

The world fell out from around Cethleann, and she knew no more.

**+++**

“Cethleann. Cethleann.” Byleth watched as Seteth shook the small, limp body in his arms. “Cethleann, by the Goddess, please wake up.”

“Seteth. She’ll be fine. The healers have done the best job they could.” Byleth reached out to set her hand on Seteth’s shoulder, but he immediately shook her off. It seemed that all of his attention was on his child. She had never had a child of her own, but she knew that Jeralt would have treated her with just the same dedication and care.

A few moments passed. With a horrible feeling, Byleth realized that the young woman, if she wasn’t awake by now, probably wasn’t going to wake up again.

Seteth seemed to have the same realization. He clutched his daughter to his chest; he pressed his forehead against hers as his mouth trembled in preparation for loss. Byleth saw glistening tears fall from his eyes and onto the girl’s alabaster cheeks.

This time, Seteth did not shrug off her attempt at offering comfort. His shoulders sagged beneath Byleth’s hand, and Byleth knew that she was looking at a broken man.

“She must have been very precious to you,” Byleth said in a soft voice. “What was her name?”

“Cethleann.” She could barely hear Seteth’s voice. “Her name is Cethleann, and she has the most beautiful smile.”

“Cethleann. Huh. That’s pretty.” Byleth looked at the girl’s face with curious eyes. She’d heard that name before. She didn’t remember where, though, so she didn’t bring it up.

“Yes.”

Byleth sighed and surveyed their surroundings. All around them, soldiers and students alike were recovering from the skirmish and licking what wounds had been dealt. Whether Cethleann had been aware of their identities or not, it seemed as though she had managed to avoid dealing any truly fatal blows. Even so, they could not stay on the shore forever. Already, the cavaliers were beginning to turn their horses back towards the monastery.

Quietly, awfully, Byleth spoke up. “Seteth. We should go.”

“Let me try and heal her,” Seteth replied. “I have not tried. Only the healers. Perhaps it takes—” He took one hand and, gathering the bright light of a healing spell, set it down on Cethleann’s still chest.

She did not move.

“Seteth.”

“One moment. Please.”

Byleth rose from comforting Seteth, only to have him suddenly reach out and grab her hand. Halted, the professor watched as Cethleann’s lashes, dark and salt-crusted from the ocean breeze, slowly opened. Her eyes, the same seafoam green as the dragon’s, were bleary and unfocused upon first glance, but she soon turned to look up at the man who lovingly cradled her in his arms.

Cethleann smiled, and Byleth had to agree with Seteth. After all they’d been through—the fight, the victory, the uncertainty of her survival, the girl’s smile was the most beautiful thing she’d seen.

“Father.” Cethleann spoke, and while her voice was so rough that it seemed she hadn’t said a word in a thousand years, it appeared as though it was the most beautiful sound Seteth had ever heard. The girl leaned into the damp fabric of Seteth’s shirt and gripped him close. Seteth’s shoulders began to rise and fall in the tell-tale motion that accompanied his sobs of relief.

“Father,” Cethleann repeated, her own voice thick with tears, her voice muffled by the desperate way in which she clung to Seteth. “I’m finally home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you think I could make it so long without a fic where Flayn was entirely a dragon? With how much I love Flayn being a dragon? Honestly, I'm surprised I held out as long as I did. 
> 
> My most immense thanks, once more, to [Lily.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blooming_Spiderlily/pseuds/Blooming_Spiderlily) I don't think I would have been so doggedly persistent about finishing this week out without her constant assistance and assurance. Girl, I owe you so much. 
> 
> And that's a wrap for Flayn Week 2020! It was hard to write a new piece every night for all eight days, but I really hope that I've learned from the experience, and maybe even that it's made me a better writer. Thank you so much for sticking with me through it; I can't express how much it means to me. 
> 
> As always, you can find a plethora of other fics and art at the [Flayn Week Twitter;](https://twitter.com/flaynweek) they've retweeted everything posted in the tag. You can also find me on twitter, at @tansybells! See you next time! Thank you for reading ❤


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